You are very strong, but my painting style is better than yours!

Border villages like these are often inhabited by poor people who were relocated to develop the land. At most, they have only lived for two or three generations, just escaping the struggle between life and death, and after only a few days of having enough to eat and wear, they encounter this kind of disaster that they are completely unable to resist. It is truly pitiful.

Yes, only humans can pity other humans, but these demons encased in steel cannot; instead, they need to laugh even more wildly to vent their frustrations!

Because compared to fighting the enemy, bullying a village with almost no armed forces is a piece of cake, like tigers and wolves ravaging a wild rabbit.

Strangely, they seemed to be in a hurry, focusing on killing and arson, and didn't spend much time plundering wealth or searching for women and children—unlike ordinary bandits, who would have certainly taken the opportunity to become slave traders.

In fact, their weaponry and organization are not like those of a civilian violent group; they are more like a well-trained army!

"Huff...huff...hah...faster!"

Her breathing became rapid, her heart pounded like a war drum, and her blood surged in her eardrums, making the girl feel like she could explode at any moment.

But she dared not stop!

"Ah ah ah ah ah--!"

Screams echoed from the village that was gradually falling behind. The girl dared not turn around, and familiar faces kept flashing through her mind, but her only option now was to escape.

It was both out of fear of death and to protect her loved ones, because she was holding the hand of another, even younger child tightly.

"Stop!"

"Don't try to escape!"

Approaching like a death knight, his entire being exuding a violent aura, armed to the teeth, he drew ever closer.

Anli, a girl with freckles on her face, ran until her legs trembled and her strength was almost exhausted, but she still did not give up. As an ordinary person with no power to resist, she decided to fight to the end. Even if she was destined to become food for wild beasts, she would not let them eat comfortably!

If it were just Anri alone, she would probably have already suffered a mental breakdown, resigned herself to her fate, and desperately faced her death. But Anri only had a ten-year-old sister, which made it impossible for her to easily make the choice to give up.

"No...no! Faster! Ha..."

Sweat had already soaked through Anli's clothes on her back. If she were alone, she might have had a real chance of escaping into the forest, but the bandits were bound by discipline and could not go too far, so they had no choice but to let her go.

— This was actually something the "robbers" were happy to see happen, since real thieves were just a mob and couldn't carry out such a high-efficiency massacre; having a few survivors would make it more believable.

"what!"

The younger sister suddenly stumbled, let out a cry of pain, and almost fell to the ground.

"Nim! Hurry! Don't stop!"

"Ok!"

The little girl nodded repeatedly with an expression that looked like she was about to cry.

However, the next instant, a teasing voice, like a cat playing with a mouse, rang out:

"You're so tired, do you want to get on a horse?"

The sound made Anli and Nim freeze instantly, staring in terror behind them.

Holding a knight's sword stained with bright red blood, his warhorse was also covered in splattered blood. Ordinary knights have limited mobility due to their full suits of armor, but riding a horse is a different story.

"do not want!"

"Honestly, I went through all this trouble, only to find out it was just two little girls... I have no interest in these kinds of frivolous girls."

The knight talked to himself on horseback, then drew his longsword from the saddlebag.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

He raised it up mercilessly at Anri and Nym, who had stopped moving—

Looking at the blood-stained longsword raised high in front of her, Anli's mind went blank. She could only hug her terrified sister tightly and close her eyes.

Oh, merciless God, perhaps I am not devout enough, but what sin has my little sister committed that makes you so cold-hearted?

Perhaps, you never existed in the first place!

call out!

A short, sharp whooshing sound rang out, followed by a dull thud. A warm spray landed on Anli's face, but after a moment, the expected pain did not come. Apart from the sound of the wind, she could not hear anything else.

The girl nervously opened her eyes, then her pupils contracted sharply, witnessing a scene she would never forget:

The knight, encased in steel armor, was pierced through the head by a glowing spear and pinned to the ground along with his warhorse at a slightly tilted angle!

The cruel smile on the knight's face had not yet faded when his life was taken away in an instant, and neither he nor his horse knew what had happened.

This reminded Anli of dried salted fish skewered on sticks and hung out to dry, or earthworms used as bait... but strangely enough, it didn't evoke any fear.

Perhaps it was the relief of surviving a catastrophe, or perhaps it was the awe of a miracle, but in Anli's eyes, the knight who had been impaled seemed to possess a strange holiness, like a mural in a church.

The world seemed to have suddenly fallen silent; the screams and maniacal laughter had vanished without a trace, and the air was no longer murky.

Swish!

Heavy rain fell from the partly cloudy sky, extinguishing the life-consuming fire.

Subconsciously, Anli and Nim looked up at the sky, their vision etched with an indelible image.

It was the slanting light falling through the mottled clouds, like a staircase, the interplay of light and shadow seemingly symbolizing the hope that would be brought to this chaotic world.

The person stood in the soft glow. Although the distance was very far, almost all the villagers saw this scene. The hem of his clothes fluttering in the wind was like the cloak of a hero in mythology, while the white light surrounding him was like a sacred halo.

I'm wrong.

Anli unconsciously opened her mouth and smiled, but because of the lingering fear and shock, it looked like an exaggerated fanaticism.

"Gods...heroes...they really exist!"

【Ding! 】

[CG already included]

[The one whose glory descends]

Category: Art style.

quality:……

grade:……

Rewards Overview:

Art style value +3!

……

The village, named Karn, is located in a forest ten kilometers away from the Great Tomb of Nazarick. It is an ordinary little village, and if it weren't for its proximity, there would be nothing that would attract Iori.

But from then on, some "scenic spots" appeared here, such as human statues impaled on the ground by spears... The villagers were so eager to help each other and make up for the losses that they didn't have time to clean up the corpses, making the scene look as bizarre as a cult sacrifice.

The villagers, who had just escaped death, naturally didn't care about this; in fact, they found the terrifying scene extremely satisfying!

In the center of Kahn Village, there was a square. At this moment, a group of villagers who had survived all knelt down and bowed their heads to thank Iori as if they were worshipping a god.

Even if they had been rescued, there was no need for this formality, but the villagers took it for granted and subconsciously greeted the "divine being who descended from the sky" with such humility.

"Thank you very much!"

The village chief of Kahn Village was quite old, looking to be around fifty, but people in this border region generally look older than they are, so his real age might only be forty.

"If it weren't for Your Majesty's rescue, none of us would have survived. We are truly grateful!"

Behind the village chief's words, the villagers, filled with both joy and sorrow, expressed their deepest gratitude to Iori.

"Your Majesty?"

Iori raised an eyebrow.

It seems that the village chief regards Iori as a great figure. He doesn't know how to address him in his limited knowledge, but he subconsciously feels that he cannot use "Your Majesty", so he uses "Your Majesty" which has special religious connotations.

However, he was wrong. Iori really was "His Majesty," but he had never held a position in a religious organization.

...Although his subordinates all idolized him to some extent.

Of course, Iori wouldn't care about such things.

"No need for formalities, you can just call me 'Your Excellency'. My surname is Aizen, so let's just call me your neighbor for now."

Neighbor?

The village chief was taken aback. Before he could even ask a question, he heard Iori speak up: "I am gratified by your gratitude, but besides kneeling here in worship, don't you have more important things to do?"

"……Yes."

Following Iori's gaze, the village chief looked to the left and saw a villager lying on a white sheet, his body covered in severe burns.

His voice was tinged with sorrow, but he forced himself to hold it back: "There are no doctors left in the village, and we don't have enough herbs... We're raising money to go to the other side of the mountain to invite people over, but most of them are probably..."

Even in a magical world, the lives of ordinary people seem no different, and such severe injuries probably cannot be repaired even with expensive healing potions.

Even if it were possible to cure them, the villagers simply don't have the money...

"That's probably too late."

Iori shook his head. Wearing black-rimmed glasses, his face held a look that was somewhere between compassion and gentleness. He slowly walked to the side of a seriously wounded soldier.

"I know a little about medicine, so I'll do some emergency treatment first. I hope it can help. Please don't mind if it doesn't work."

"Please don't say that! We have already received such great kindness from you, how could we be heartless—hiss!"

The village chief leaned closer, but before he could finish speaking, he gasped, "What kind of magic is this?!"

Iori casually slashed open a spatial rift and took out a crystal bottle from the obscure darkness.

Spatial magic and related items are extremely rare in this world. Even royalty and nobility have no chance of possessing them, and these villagers have never even heard of them—their impression of magic is still limited to fireballs and ice spikes.

This made the other villagers restless, and they all gathered around, including the Anri sisters. However, the village chief loudly reprimanded them, telling them not to get too close and affect Iori's mood.

Iori paid no heed to these actions. Ignoring the dusty ground, he lifted his robe and sat cross-legged. He opened the crystal bottle and poured the wine-like liquid into his hand. Instantly, a captivating fragrance filled the air, and the villagers fell silent, watching intently as Iori slowly sprinkled the liquid onto the wounded man's torn and bleeding skin.

The miracle happened!

The skin scorched by the flames dried up, turned black, and scabbed over at a speed visible to the naked eye. Then, the wounded man regained some strength and, as if he couldn't resist scratching it, the black scabs crumbled and fell off, revealing completely healed tissue that was even whiter and more tender than before, as if the whole person had shed a layer of skin!

In just a few seconds, he was brought back to life!

"Oh oh oh oh!!!"

"It's a miracle! It's a miracle!"

"How high-level holy magic would it take to achieve this?"

"Alchemy potions? Are they really that powerful?"

"This is not magic!"

"Yes, it's a miracle!"

Amid the clamor of the villagers, the wounded man, who had regained consciousness, stared blankly around, unaware of what had happened, only knowing that he had likely just escaped death.

"...Is it...you?"

He instinctively looked at the only unfamiliar face. "You saved me?"

"Don't move, it's not finished yet."

At this moment, Iori was as focused as a real doctor from a foreign tribe, looking at his stiff left leg as he stood up.

"Ah, this is an old injury of his, his legs are a little weak, it's not this time..." The village chief wanted to continue, but then fell silent.

Because Iori didn't listen to his explanation, she placed her hand directly on her calf. This time, she didn't use any potion, but closed her eyes and pretended to meditate, with a gentle emerald green glow emanating from the inside of her palm.

"Ugh!! This...it hurts...no, this is!"

The wounded man endured the pain, his ten fingers digging deep into the soil. His expression was a complex mix of pain and itchiness, and the surrounding villagers dared not speak, their hearts inexplicably on edge.

Fortunately, the process did not last too long. Iori opened her eyes after a moment, and the green light disappeared.

At this moment, the wounded soldier carefully felt his left leg and tried to lift it with some disbelief—

Then his lower leg lifted up without any resistance, just like a normal person's.

"My, my leg!"

"My God...he didn't even chant, he just touched me!"

"That's not a new wound, it's been there for many years, and yet..."

The villagers were once again shocked, but instead of erupting into discussion, they remained quiet. Without any prompting, they all bowed slightly to Iori as if worshipping something unseen.

Iori remained unmoved; her face behind her glasses remained as gentle and kind as ever, exuding a strong sense of approachability.

"It seems my medical skills are still barely usable."